


Double Jeopardy

by alwaysthrowsscissors



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Bottom Sam Winchester, Brother Banter, Come as Lube, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester First Time Having Sex, Denial of Feelings, Facts and Fucks, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Intelligence Kink, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Researching Dean Winchester, Self-Hatred, Shame, Shame Spiral, Sharing a Bed, Smart Dean Winchester, Smart Is The New Sexy, Smut, Spit As Lube, Switching, Teasing, Top Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, Top Sam Winchester, Top/Bottom Versatile Dean Winchester, Top/Bottom Versatile Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26961223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysthrowsscissors/pseuds/alwaysthrowsscissors
Summary: Sam has a problem. A big problem. Dean is sexy when he's showing off his smarts. A night after hunting, an episode of Jeopardy pushes him to the point where he can no longer ignore his lust.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 22
Kudos: 309





	Double Jeopardy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outoftheashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outoftheashes/gifts).



> Alternative title: "Sam is Screwed for 1200"
> 
> This fic was written for my lovely friend after a late night conversation revealing her intelligence kink.
> 
> Just a heads up, consent starts of fairly dubiously but it doesn't last long and everyone is happy in the end ;)

Returning to the motel one night, muddy and exhausted from a particularly grueling hunt, where he and Dean chased a monster through the woods in the rain all night, Sam wanted nothing more than a long, hot shower and sleep. What greeted him was filthy rainwater dripping from the shoddy, popcorn ceiling all over his designated bed.

“Fuck!” Sam hustled over to remove his soaked duffle bag from the bed in a vain attempt to salvage the rest of his clothes. 

“I’ll call the twerp at the front desk, see if we can switch rooms,” Dean yawned, stripping his jacket off. 

Frowning, Sam pulled his wet clothes out and began draping them around the room to dry.

“Well, looks like you’re sleeping in the tub tonight Sammy,” Dean said, hanging up the phone and kicking off his boots. “Can you believe this dump is at full capacity? No cots either.”

“Of course it is,” Sam sighed, “and fuck that, why do you get the bed? You’re the short one, you sleep in the tub.”

“Hey, duffle claims the bed man, I don’t make the rules.” Dean pointed to his bag on the dry double bed. 

“You literally made that rule three years ago, that time my bed had the weird stain.” Sam glared at him.

Dean shrugged and plopped down onto the bed expressing feigned innocence. 

“Can’t catch a goddamn break,” Sam grumbled, pulling out his toiletry bag, thinking that he’ll have to wear inside-out boxers after his shower.

“Ok, ok, if you’re gonna cry about it then I guess you can sleep in my bed, but I’m telling you right now I’m not being the little spoon,” he winked at Sam.

Sam suppressed an eyeroll; he didn't want to piss Dean off while he's being so magnanimous. Dean picked up the remote and started channel flipping. 

“Awesome! Sammy, they’re replaying tonight’s Jeopardy, sit your ass down.”

Oh no. _No no no no no no._ “I want to shower, I’m covered in grime,” he stammered, heart skipping a beat. 

Sam has a problem. A big problem. He’s noticed it for some time now, maybe five years; ever since Dean called him back to hunting. His older brother had changed noticeably. He was still the cock-sure, asshole Sam grew up with, who consumed way too much garbage and told too many corny jokes, but some of his show-off, foolhardy nature was left in his adolescence. What was left was a more mature, steady, quietly confident man; a _smart_ man. 

The problem developed insidiously, beginning when Dean started taking more initiative to dive into the research, brow furrowed, stating facts about how to deal with rare monsters, beating Sam to the punch. Then, every once in a while, he would catch Dean doing crossword puzzles if they happened to be at a slightly less flea-ridden motel that had free newspapers, a look of concentration on his face, pen cap chewed between his teeth (yes, he did it in pen; the power move). Sam would catch himself staring, a strange flush spreading across his face and chest, and a tightening in his stomach, a _warmth_ spreading in his groin. 

One day, when Dean was arguing with Bobby about the candidates in the latest democratic debate, during an upcoming election, it hit Sam like a freight train; Dean was _sexy_ when he was showing off his brain. It also didn’t help that he was so good looking that it hurts Sam’s eyes. It was hardly fair that a person could look that rugged and chiseled yet know his way around a chess board well enough that he beat Sam roughly seventy-five percent of the time. Sam’s coping strategy mirrored the ol’ Winchester way; shove it down, ignore it, take a walk, have a cold shower. If worse came to worst, sneakily beat off in the bathroom with the fan on, which was happening more and more frequently as cases became more complex, and required greater critical thinking and problem solving. 

“We never get to catch it, and you owe me for letting you sleep with me,” Dean said, bobbing his head to the placid intro music. 

Sam swallowed dryly at Dean’s choice of words. “I’m exhausted and disgusting Dean.” Sam huffed to add to the show. Truth was, he’d love nothing more to watch Dean spit out answers at top speed, but it was far too dangerous. He didn’t trust himself around Dean’s intelligence. 

“If you watch with me, I’ll let you borrow some dry clothes. Come on, it's no fun playing alone.” Dean scooted back on the bed to lean against the headboard.

“Ok, fine,” Sam conceded like an idiot, dragging a chair next to Dean’s bed and sitting down stiffly. 

“Fuck we missed the categories- what is nuclear power- because you were yammering.”

Sam glared at him but didn't miss the fact that Dean very smoothly answered the first clue, while using the proper phrased-as-a-question format no less. 

_“Patrick Roy & Hope Solo both played this position,” _said Alex Trebec. 

“What is goalkeeper,” Sam said confidently 

“What is goal _ten_ der. It’s ‘ten’-letter words, the ten is in quotations. Keep up Sammy.” Dean elbowed him, grinning and Sam was so distracted by Dean’s attention to detail, that he wasn’t even annoyed that he bested him. 

They went back and forth like this, sometimes Sam would get clues right, sometimes Dean would, and there were a handful of times they jinxed each other. Sam was faltering though, the more Dean got right, the more Sam’s heart would flutter, the dryer his mouth was, the more flushed he got. By the time the first commercial break aired, halfway through the first round, he was barely answering. He was in big trouble.

“Are you giving up? Decided I’m smarter than you?” 

“No, I’m just...tired.” Sam said, peeling off his flannel

“Sure, sure.” Dean teased.

“Is it hot in here? Do you feel hot?” Sam asked, feeling slightly frantic knots in his stomach.

“No, I’m fine.” 

“I’m boiling.” He bolted up and tinkered with the air conditioner until it was blasting cool air into the room, making a vibrating, clanking racket as it did so. He awkwardly returned to his chair, willing the flush off his face and chest. _Its just a fucking game of Jeopardy, calm the fuck down_ , Sam thought, pinching the skin of his palm in an attempt to distract himself.

The contestants finished their boring little stories about themselves and they were into the categories again. Dean rattled off knowledge of the PGA, clean energy, movie title math, and port cities around the world. What Sam was the most aroused by was the American Authors category. 

_“One of the main symbols in this author’s acclaimed novel is a red hat.”_

“Who is Salinger,” Dean said through a yawn. 

“You’ve read The Catcher in the Rye?”

“Yah I picked it up at a library one time along with Franny and Zooey. I never got to it in high school and I heard it’s required reading, so I gave it a try,” Dean shrugged. 

“F-Franny…” Sam bit his bottom lip and shifted around his chair. “Interesting. What other-”

“What is two hundred and fifty-two, shut it Sam.”

Sam gave his head a little shake and cleared his throat, insides writhing. _Oh God, he knows the symbolism of the red hunting hat and quickly did that math in his head while he was talking to me._ This was very, very, bad.

By the end of the first round, Sam’s had bit the inside of his cheeks raw, sweat was soaking his shirt, and he felt the first movement, the first _stirring_ that told him it was time to get the fuck out of that room.

“I think I’m going to check out the bar down the street, get a couple drinks.” Sam stood suddenly, swinging his arms.

“What? What are you talking about? Didn't you say you were beat and need a shower?”

“Yah, well…” Sam could not think of one single excuse, reasonable or otherwise. 

“It's one o'clock...and we have beer in the cooler Sam.” Dean frowned at him. 

“I can get up to a lot of trouble in an hour,” Sam shrugged, glancing longingly at the door as if it was his only lifeline. He knew full well how completely out of character he was acting. Dean was staring at him like he was a complete stranger. 

“I thought we were watching the show together.” Dean dropped his gaze to a spot near his feet, lips pursed. “We never just...watch tv anymore.” 

Sam knew that for Dean, these words were as vulnerable and demonstrative as ‘I love you, I miss you,’ and he was struck with guilt. Even though Dean took off on Sam all the time, left him alone in countless hotel rooms his whole life, to get space, to chase girls, Sam was being a huge dick to his brother _all because of how sick you are, how_ depraved _you are._

“But whatever...if you want to go, go.” Dean crossed his arms and glowered at the tv as the commercials came to an end and the categories for Double Jeopardy were announced. 

“Ok, ok I’ll stay.” Sam flopped back down against his better judgement, his entire sympathetic nervous system screaming at him to flee. 

It only took Dean crushing the entire ‘It’s Elementary’ category for Sam’s cock to awaken to half hardness. _He probably had to pick up simple chemistry for the GED, It’s just the periodic table you fucking freak. What is_ wrong _with you?_ But it was the fact that he remembered, the fact that he could apply it so quickly and accurately without even having to hear the whole clue. He shifted around in his seat even more frequently, crossing his legs to hide his reaction, cursing and scolding himself over and over again. 

He caught Dean eyeing him. “What’s wrong, man? That chair uncomfortable?”

“Yah, it’s pretty hard.” _You didn’t just fucking say that._

“Come over here then.” Dean patted the bed next to him and scooted over closer to Sam’s chair.

 _Fuck._ “No it’s ok it’s really not that bad.” Sam rattled off at top speed. “Uhh.. what is umm Maine.”

“No it’s, North Carolina.”

 _“What is North Carolina?”_ A contestant replied

_“Correct!”_

“Ha!” Dean fist pumped. “Ok, whatever man, suit yourself, but would ya sit still? You’re distracting me.”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief that Dean was dropping it, but he quickly realized that he was remaining close to his chair. He got a strong whiff of Dean’s sweat, his musk from running around the woods and fighting all day and _throbbed,_ turning a soft moan into a cough to avoid suspicion. He suddenly felt twelve years old again, shamefully hiding erections and absolutely hating his body for betraying him. _It’s just the smart answers, it doesn't have to do with Dean, you’re not attracted to your brother,_ Sam lied wildly to himself. He began shoving his fingertips in his mouth one by one to anxiously gnaw at his nails. 

“Oooh here we go Sammy, Literary Before and After, I love this shit.” Dean rubbed his hands together as the contestants finally got to the category Sam was most dreading. 

_“Hakuri Murakami’s tale of a man who searches for his lost cat in a Tokyo suburb and stumbles upon a wardrobe featured in a book series.”_

“What is the The Wind-up Bird Chronicles of Narnia.”

“ _God_ \- good one Dean.” Sam huffed out a breath. 

_“H.G. Wells’ sci-fi novel about Sir Thomas More & his ability to not be seen.” _

“What is The Invisible Man of All Seasons.”

Sam was breathing heavily, no longer able to stop the onslaught of blood pumping to his dick. He was running out of fingernails. 

“Are you even going to try one, Sam?” Dean shoved him playfully while the contestants hopped around to other categories.

“You’re having so much fun with it.” Sam strained out, trying and likely failing at sounding normal. 

“C’mon dude, make it a fair fight.”

_“A loosely biographical novel about the real-life slayers of the Clutter family meets Cormac Mcarthy’s loosely historical work about hunters along the U.S., Mexico borderlands.”_

“What is In Cold Blood...uhhh...” Sam attempted.

“In Cold Blood Meridian, geez, you really must be tired.” 

Sam leaned forward elbows on knees, nodding and running his hands through his hair, pleading with himself in his head to get a grip. “Yup, exhausted” Sam managed. He likely wouldn’t have been able to solve four multiplied by six at the moment. Sam stayed in this position for the remainder of the category, screaming at every muscle not to squirm due to the discomforting sensation of his precome soaked underwear. 

At long last, it was time for Final Jeopardy (category: Classical Music) and the son of a bitch got it right, shouting out the answer before Sam could even open his mouth, making his cock throb and ache painfully with want. Standing up quickly for the third time _,_ he nearly shouted: “Shower time!” causing Dean to look at him with bemused alarm. Sam shuffled towards the bathroom making sure to hide his issue with his toiletry bag. Once inside, he flicked on the fan, shucked his filthy jeans off, and palmed his cock through his boxers, backing up against the sink, and letting out a soft moan. He just got his boxers down and fist wrapped his around his dick when he flinched; Dean was pounding on the door. 

“Sammy, you want those fresh clothes?”

Sam’s pulse immediately jack-rabbited in his throat. “Yah, gimmie a sec to get in the shower, I’m n-naked.” He rushed over to crank the faucet on, waited for the brick-red coloured water to run clear, and hopped in. 

“Ok!” He shouted over the stream of the water. He heard Dean open the door, and instinctively turned to face the wall, lest he give him a disturbing, R-rated, shadow puppet show. 

“On the towel rack buddy. Don’t take too long washing your Rapunzel hair, I don't want the hot water to run out.”

Sam swore inwardly and went about quickly sudsing up, trying to ignore his heavy, needy dick. Maybe if he cleaned up fast enough, he would still have time to shamefully jerk off before Dean was pounding on the door again. He wasn’t so lucky; just as he rinsed the last of the muddy suds off his shoulders, Dean was back.

“Hold your goddamn horses!” Sam yelled a little higher pitched than usual, deprivation making him jumpy. He turned the water off, toweled dry, and tucked his cock into the waistband of Dean’s too short, taco-patterned pajama pants. The shirt was also too short and betrayed his cock head poking out of the waistband.

“Fuck _off_ !” He hissed at himself in the mirror pounding his fists on the sink. He shut his eyes tight, willing the boner away the only way he knew how in this situation: by internally shaming himself. _You are a sick fuck getting a boner for Dean, your brother. Your_ brother _. Over what, him showing off at Jeopardy? Get a fucking grip Sam, you fucking, goddamn, disgusting, loser. This isn’t you, you don’t even like men...that much, but definitely not your brother, you’re not into Dean. Being smart isn’t hot, get a hold of yourself._ The weight in his dick began to alleviate somewhat and he breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe just maybe he could get through this night. 

“Finally! I'm sick of being gross too, ya know,” Dean sighed, pushing passed Sam impatiently when he left the bathroom.

“Thanks for the clothes,” Sam mumbled after him and sat on the edge of the bed, not knowing what to do with himself, feeling completely uneasy in his own skin. 

He was left alone with his racing, self-deprecating thoughts while Dean got himself into the shower. Soon, Sam could hear him humming loudly to the tune of the second movement of Beethoven’s 7th symphony, Allegretto, the Final Jeopardy that Dean got correct. Hearing him vocalize each note in a perfect, controlled vibrato set Sam pacing. _How does he know fucking classical music when all he ever listens to are the same six ratty, rock cassettes over and over?_ He ran his hands hastily through his wet hair and covered his ears trying and failing to block his brother out, walking around the small space until he heard the water shut off. He decided that settling back into the chair was the safest option until the inevitable bed time occurred. 

Dean came out dressed in a tshirt and his favourite hotdog pajama pants, now whistling the Final Jeopardy music and rubbing his head with a towel. 

“Alright, let's hit the hay. I’m beat.” Dean got into bed on the left side. After a moment he frowned over at Sam who was still sitting rigidly in the chair. 

“What, do you need an invitation or something, sweetheart?” 

Sam stood up awkwardly, self-conscious of the tightness of Dean's shirt across his chest and the little strip of visible skin on his stomach. Dean must have noticed because as Sam pulled the covers back and slipped in next to him, the mattress was vibrating with Dean’s suppressed laughter. 

“What?” Sam said blankly.

“Nothing, you're just such a fucking Sasquatch that's all.” Dean wiped his eyes and clicked off the bedside lamp.

“Shut up.” Sam sighed and rolled away from Dean, glad he was being his usual jerk self, it would make lying next to him much easier. 

Or so he thought. The double bed was really much too small for the two of them to lay comfortably without touching. Dean was still laying on his back and Sam couldn't tuck far enough away, or maybe he didn't quite want to. Sam’s back was nestled against Dean’s warm shoulder and he couldn't keep his mind off of it. 

“G’night Sam, ya big dummy,” Dean said into the dark, drawing Sam’s attention away from their contact. 

Sam was wide awake and instead of counting chupacabras, he stupidly decided to start playing with fire. “You really did get a lot right.”

“Don't sound so surprised.” 

“I'm not!” 

“Uhuh, ok Stanford, you're not the only one in the family with a brain.” 

Sam frowned and rolled over onto his back to face Dean, now pressed shoulder to shoulder with him. “Dean, I know you're smart.” He hesitated for a moment. “I am curious, though, how you know some of that stuff.”

Dean scoffed. “Hey man, just ‘cause I was busy hunting with dad while you were off getting a _formal education,_ ” Sam felt him lift his arms up, presumably doing air quotes, “doesn't mean I didn't pick up a book or two.” Dean’s voice became somewhat clipped, defensive. 

“Ok, ok, don't get upset, I didn't mean anything by it.” 

“Oh, I’m cool as a cuke, baby.” That lofty, cocky tone he knew so well that usually betrayed insecurity. 

“So you uh...you used to read quiz books, trivia books?” Innocent enough, just taking an interest in his older brother, validating him. 

“Yah, stuff like that. If it was slow I’d go to local libraries and read whatever textbooks they had too when I was bored of fiction.” His tone was softening back down. 

Sam pictured Dean hunched over a book that had nothing to do with the monsters they were always so consumed with, at some library in Nowhere Oklahoma, Wyoming, Iowa, the glow from one of those little green table lamps illuminating the concentration and interest on his face. He felt a lovely, horrible dip in his stomach.

“What um...what subjects.” 

“Lots of stuff, history, chemistry, physics. Whatever I could get my hands on, really.” 

Sam cleared his throat and wet his lips. “Physics? That's hard stuff.” 

“Yah, I got really enthralled with quantum mechanics during this one long job dad and I did down in Arizona. We weren't getting anywhere with the case during the day, so I spent my time boning up while he slept. Guess you could say I'm an autodidact.” There was a touch of pride in his voice. 

_Autodidact._ Sam closed his eyes, heat rising in his chest, warm and twisting inside. _You're being stupid._

“Do you...remember anything.” 

Dean laughed. “Like what? It’s pretty fucking complex, man”

“I dunno...what can you tell me about it.”

Dean lay quietly for a moment. “Well it’s hypothetical much like the theory of relativity but both theories are mutually exclusive, meaning they can’t both be proven accurate.”

Sam listened to his brother as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He could see him fairly clearly now by the parking lot light bleeding through the thin curtains. As he talked, Sam traced his features with his eyes, noting the pleased way his full lips turned up, the crinkling of crows feet, the glances he made to see Sam’s reaction as he spoke. _You’re not attracted to your brother…_

“Relativity is based on a continuous, deterministic, four-dimensional spacetime; however, quantum mechanics is defined as discontinuous and probabilistic rather than definite with regard to outcomes.”

With each syllable of each esoteric word, Sam began to become unraveled again. He suddenly felt overheated, flushed, sweaty. Dean’s shirt was far too tight and restrictive. He tugged at the collar stretching it. 

“What do you mean by deterministic?” Sam knew but couldn't help himself, he wanted to hear Dean explain it.

“The philosophy posits that pretty much everything that happens is determined by preexisting factors, meaning that there's a cause-and-effect relationship between all events in the universe. It ultimately argues against the existence of free will.”

“Huh, Really?” was all Sam could manage. His heart was pounding again, blood pumping, rushing where he didn’t want it. _You are sick and_ twisted. _You need to stop this now._

“For example, you could say that you choose orange juice over apple juice because you like it better and therefore have free will. However, determinism would argue that factors like, say, you having a bad association with apples cause you choked on one as a kid, or the fact that dad always got us orange juice growing up would lead you to picking orange juice regardless of your perceived preference.”

Sam squirmed, nearly writhed in the sheets, feeling like he was going out of his skin with the push and pull of conflict. He sat up to peel off Dean’s shirt not being able to stand the restriction any longer.

“Still too hot?” Dean asked.

“Yah.” Sam laid back and angled his legs to the side to hide his rapidly hardening cock. “Tell me-tell me about string theory.” _You weak pathetic fuck._

“It’s late Sammy, this isn't exactly light pillow talk material.” 

“Just an elevator statement, c’mon.” Sam bit his lip in anticipation, pleasure and self-disdain swirling in his stomach.

“Jesus, uhh..well the theory essentially hypothesizes that what we perceive as elementary particles in matter, like an electron, are not single entities but actually vibrating strings closed to form loops. They vibrate at different frequencies giving particles distinct properties like mass.”

“Uhhhnnnn, uhuh.” Sam breathed as his cock began dripping. 

“Completely ignores the concept of gravity though…” Dean was appraising his body language, frowning. “What’s going on with you, Sammy?” 

“Nothing, n-nothing’s wrong.”

“Sam, what the _fuck_ , do you- do you have a _boner_?” Dean sat up quickly, his voice incredulous and full of amusement. His eyes were on Sam’s oddly angled legs. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, just die, just fucking kill your self now._

“No!” A visceral, intrusive memory of his dad catching him washing his pajama pants in a motel tub, in the middle of the night after a wet dream, swam into Sam’s shame-soaked mind. The heavy sickliness of the embarrassment, wanting the threadbare bathmat to swallow him up, wanting to run. Of course his dad didn’t know how to handle it, he just clapped Sam vigorously on the back, driving him forward painfully against the tub, and told him he's becoming a man. He could feel the faint ghost of pain in his ribs just thinking about it. 

Sam pulled his thoughts to the present, dissociating right now was unfortunately not an option. He tried to turn away from Dean, but his brother shoved his shoulder down onto the mattress. Squirming, he avoided looking up at Dean; he couldn't stand seeing the mirth on that face. 

“You do, don’t you! You’re horny!” Glee dripped from every word. Both of Dean’s hands were pinning his shoulders, leaning over him.

“I'm not, get off of me!” Sam twisted, trying to throw him off.

“You just _moaned_! Did you watch porn when I was in the shower or something?” Sam could feel his eyes searching his face.

“Christ, no! It's _nothing_.”

“Maybe you're just not used to a warm body in bed with you?” Sam wasn't sure who he was trying to soothe. 

“Would you just fucking drop it?” His stupid brother with his stupid weight was still holding him down. He was taking this to his grave; Dean would never understand. 

“Why are you horny, you weirdo?” Dean prodded his ribs. “Did I...do something, say something? To set you off?”

“Fuck _off_ , Dean.” 

“Out with it, I'm not gonna lay off.” Dean was landing soft jabs to his torso and open-hand smacks on his head and face now. 

“I fucking mean it Dean, you’re pissing me off.”

“ _I_ mean it Sammy, fess up!” 

“No! Drop it!”

“Come on! C’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon c’mooonnnn!” Dean needled, still poking and prodding.

“Grow the fuck up!”

He knew withholding a secret from Dean was futile; he would never stop. At least he wasn’t tickling him at their age.

“Tell me, tell me, tell me,” Dean was pushing Sam’s chest like he was doing CPR, jostling and bouncing him against the mattress.

Sam clenched his teeth and said nothing feeling absolutely ridiculous bouncing and knocking into his puerile brother.

“Good luck sleeping Sam!”

More stubborn, harassed silence. 

“What's got you all riled up? Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell-” 

“ _Jesus Christ_! It was Jeopardy, ok!?” He shouted, catching Dean’s wrists, sitting up and shoving him over, nearly throwing him off the bed. 

“W-what?”

“Jeopardy, you dick! You being good at it, you- you talking about smart shit. Are you fucking happy now?” Sam clutched his face in his hands, anger spiking, making his shame less lonely. Dean was apparently stunned silent because he let several minutes pass before he burst out laughing.

“You’re joking!”

“Why would I joke about this? It’s mortifying.” He seethed against the palms of his hands. 

“Me knowing stuff? Is that what the physics stuff was about?” He chuckled.

“Yes.” _This isn’t fucking happening._ A goddamn waking nightmare. He could retch. 

“What is it about it that gets you going?”

“We're not doing this, Dean.”

“I want to kn-”

“I don’t fucking know, ok? I can’t explain it. Can we just drop it and go to sleep?” Sam thrashed onto his side.

“Uhhh, absolutely not Sammy, you big freak!” Dean’s tone was light and his words didn't really hold judgement, but Sam’s humiliation was too sky-high to care.

“Please just let me curl up and die,” Sam mumbled pathetically, curling his long legs up against his body.

“It’s really ok, man, we all have our kinks and shit, yours is just really goddamn nerdy.” He nudged Sam’s back. “Come on, talk to me.”

Sam stayed quiet. His whole body was covered in an embarrassed sweat and felt his eyes sting. Maybe he should sleep in the tub anyway like he deserved for being so fucked up. 

“So…like talking about, what...a Rubik’s cube or something? You’d like that?” Poke in the back.

“I’m thrilled that you are getting so much amusement out of this,” Sam sneered, miserably. 

“Did you know it's just a relatively simple algorithm that you have to memorize and then you can solve it quickly every time.”

“Goodnight Dean,” Sam said through gritted teeth.

“I used to be able to do it in about 10 seconds, pretty far from the world record of about four and a half seconds, but really good nonetheless.” 

“Dean, seriously, back off.” 

“Here’s something interesting about deja vu: I don’t remember the specifics but, our right and left hemispheres perceive things a few nanoseconds off.”

Sam took a long-suffering, deep inhale and exhale. The bastard was toying with him, torturing him...and it was working. His cock was as hard as ever, leaking all over Dean’s taco pants. The shame was no longer working to keep it at bay.

“Most of the time our brain fills in the gap for us so we don’t notice, but every now and again we do and think we have seen something before. Because we literally have just perceived it via the other side of the brain a few nanoseconds before.”

Sam suppressed another treacherous moan, clearing his throat instead. “Can you stop being a fucking dick Dean? I know that’s really hard for you.” His words were uncharacteristically thick with contempt, but Dean was pushing him too far. His anger and shame mixed with lust was reaching a boiling point. 

“Contrary to popular belief, a penny thrown off the Empire State Building isn't deadly. The terminal velocity of a penny is about 50 miles per hour and the human skull would require-” 

“I fucking _hate_ you!” Sam twisted onto his back to punch Dean’s shoulder, hard. The fucker was grinning and showed no signs of letting up. 

“Ouch my feelings; be nice, Sam.” Dean put his hand on his chest in mock heartache. 

“Why should I?”

“You have to admit it’s pretty funny, dude.”

“It’s not funny at all!” Sam sat up again and punched him harder.

“Ow! Is that any way to treat your _smart_ big brother?”

“ _Fuck you,_ you shit!”

“Jesus, lighten up man, I’m just joking around.” He shoved Sam’s chest, hard.

“Torturing me is a joke?” Sam yelled, pushing Dean back.

“I mean, it’s not, not a joke?” A jab in the stomach.

Sam shot out his breath, taken off guard, and saw red. It was too much, his ignored cock, feeling ashamed for hours, Dean’s grinning asshole face, his fucking facts. He shoved Dean onto his back and straddled him, smashing his lips on Dean’s. God, it felt good to overpower him. 

“Is it still funny, huh Dean?” He rolled his hips, grinding his cock into Dean, a swell of pleasure coiled in his stomach as he finally got much needed pressure and friction. 

“What the actual _fuck_ , Sam! Get a hold of yourself!” Dean’s eyes were lit with panic as he twisted in vain; Sam had him pinned tight against the bed.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Why you keep pushing, keep teasing?” He licked from Dean’s collar bone up to his stubbled jaw line and relished in the jumping pulse he felt under his tongue. He tugged his shirt up and ran his fingers over his chest. It was heavenly after wondering for years what it felt like to touch him there, firm muscles, soft, smooth skin. 

“N-no Sammy, this is...this is wrong.” He turned his head away to avoid Sam’s advances, chest rising and falling with heavy breath. 

“Mhmmm sure.” Sam grabbed Dean’s jaw, and turned his head roughly back towards him. He licked Dean’s lips, and pressed another kiss into them. Dean’s lips stayed firm but he felt Dean’s heart hammering against him as well as a distinct twitch under his cock. “I find it hard to believe you hate this.” 

“I-I, Sam, I-” Dean stammered.

Kissing him again Dean relaxed, unlocking his jaw to deepen the kiss. Sam moaned in surprise; this was actually happening, Dean was allowing it. He opened his lips for his brother who slipped his tongue in his mouth as his rough hands explored the skin on his back. He yanked Dean up to pull off his shirt and shoved himself back on top of him impetuously, desperately.

“Fuck Sam, how are you so hard?”

“I told you,” Sam hissed. He started kissing Dean’s neck.

Dean pressed into Sam’s lips, with a shuddering breath. “Antarctica is known as a zone of peace and science due to the Antarctic Treaty System designating it as a natural reserve. The treaty prohibits any weapons, military presence, territorial claims and sovereignty.”

Sam bit into Dean’s skin groaning low. Dean’s cock throbbed underneath him in response. He returned to his mouth to make out hard and rough, need and want building too fast.

“There’s twelve languages that are written right to left, oh _God_ -” Sam was sliding down Dean’s body and just gently bit his pert nipple. 

“Arabic,”

“Uhhnn, tell me.” Sam pressed a moan into the planes of Dean’s stomach muscles as he licked, chasing the goosebumps raising all over his skin. 

“Aramaic, H-Hebrew, Kurdish,”

Sam mouthed his fully hard cock through his ridiculous pants.

“Fuck! _Persian_!”

Sam yanked the pants down to Dean’s shins, relieved to see that he wasn’t wearing boxers. He shoved his legs apart and licked his way up Dean’s thigh, making him buck by sucking his balls into his mouth. 

“Syriac, holy shit, yes!”

“If you can remember two more, I’ll suck your cock down my throat.”

“Fula and umm, umm,” Dean panted, thinking hard. “Urdu!”

 _Fuck yes._ Sam swallowed his brother’s cock down to the root. It was delicious, velvety, his salty precome jammed in the back of his throat. He loved every minute, sucking up to the tip, running his tongue hard under his shaft, pulling his lips tight up and down. Along the way he stripped Dean naked, layed out just for him. He didn't know what he was doing, not really. He was gagging here and there and slobbering everywhere, but Dean was a wreck, trying to give Sam more trivia but unable to form a sentence or barely a word other than ‘fuck’ or his brother’s name. 

It was when Sam pulled off to spit on his fingers and slid one inside Dean while continuing to suck his cock, that Dean started fucking into Sam’s mouth. Sam shoved his hand into his borrowed pants and fisted his own dick, shoving a second finger in. He thrusted in and out of his ass, held his mouth good and tight for Dean, and stroked his own dick, unraveling Dean further, unraveling himself. A third finger, a fourth.

“I'm going to blow my load!” Dean keened.

“Nuhuh, you're gonna come while I'm fucking you,” Sam practically growled with lust, pulling his mouth away and wiping the spit from his chin. 

Sam stood to get naked, and watched Dean watching him, biting his plump lip and touching himself. Getting back on the bed, Sam spit into his hand, coated his dick, and shoved Dean’s legs up, breath hitching at the sight of his perfect, stretched out hole. He didn't ask, Dean wasn't stopping him; he sunk his cock deep inside. Sam's jaw dropped at the sensation. Dean was burning hot inside, rippling, squeezing his cock, squirming underneath him. He had never been with a man before; but the idea had been infecting him ever since Dean and Bobby’s argument five years ago. 

“God Sammy, holy fuck!” He was clawing and tugging at Sam’s hips so he experimented with pulling back and thrusting forward. Dean moaned; he could take it. Sam began a slow pace, thrusting in and out of his brother, their bodies pressed together, finding his lips again to lick into his mouth. A taste he had wanted to taste for ages. Maybe always. Dean’s tight warmth was making Sam lose it already as he buried himself to his base. Now that he was finally fucking him, he never wanted anything else. Dean wailed uncontrollably and Sam wondered if this was his first time too. He didn’t take Dean for the type who would let a woman peg him. 

“Harder, fuck me harder.” 

“Mmmmm.” Sam placed bites down his neck but didn't change pace. “You know what I want.” 

“T-traditionally opera singers don't use microphones. They can- hhhnnmm, they can project their voices over a full orchestra because they- _God yes,_ they sing at a different sound frequency.” 

Sam groaned and fucked into his brother how he wanted: hard, punishing. He looked wild underneath him, eyes rolling, writhing, arching. It was possibly the most beautiful thing Sam had ever seen. The pleasure looked amazing and he began to become consumed with what it would feel like to be so stretched and taken. 

“Wet your fingers and put them inside me.”

“W-why?” 

“Cause you’re gonna fuck me.”

“Oh Sammy, oh God, _yes_ I want to.” He shuddered and drew a hand up to Sam’s mouth. Sam opened for him, allowing his fingers to rasp across his tongue. He sucked and licked and continued to fuck Dean as he whined and moaned. Soon, Dean reached around Sam’s ass and unceremoniously shoved two fingers in his hole. 

“Shit, Dean!” His hole seared temporarily with pain but it took no time at all for Dean’s gentle thrusting to feel good. Too good. He felt his balls tighten up and cock throb inside of his brother. Dean was quickly stretching him open with a third finger and Sam couldn’t help pounding Dean with everything he had, knocking his head into the headboard, fucking himself back and forth on Dean’s hand in the process.

“Shit, shit, shit _Sammy_!” it was Dean who came first, spilling between them untouched. “Fuck, sorry man. That was…that was so…” he tipped his head back moaning. Sam mouthed his abused lips on his arched neck as he slowed down, thrusting against Dean’s prostate, milking as much come out of him as he could through his aftershocks.

“Dean, you’re still rock hard. I want you inside me,” he rasped. 

Dean looked down at himself in disbelief and smiled devilishly, licking his lips. Sam pulled out of his brother, swiped a hand through the come on Dean’s stomach, and stroked it over his cock. Dean let out a little yelp; so sensitive.

“Hands and knees little brother,” Dean demanded, sitting up and kneeling gracelessly.

Sam hastened to obey, biting his lip to stop himself from grinning like a fool when he felt Dean’s warm calloused hands grip his hips, the blunt end of his cock pressing against his hole. When Dean began filling him up, he had to bite back a scream it felt so good. Dean slid in down to the base and waited, rubbing the small of Sam’s back. Sam’s dick throbbed as his ass clenched and adjusted to his hung, big brother. His _brother_ was _inside_ him, beginning a slow pace, in and out. He heard him moaning low behind him.

“So tight, Sammy, so good,” Dean murmured. 

Dean fucked into him so good, Sam inwardly thanked all the women he’s slept with to make him such a good lay. The thrusting, the slow build to something rougher, more urgent. His possessive hands. The soft grunts and moans issuing from those lips he frequently stared at. He wished he could watch Dean’s confident hips rolling back and forth, his cock disappearing into his claimed hole. Next time; he wanted to stay on all fours like Dean told him to. 

“Dean, I need to come, I’m aching for it.” Dean reached around without hesitation, grabbed Sam’s cock, and began stroking it. 

“Three point one four one five nine two six five three five eight nine seven nine-”

“ _Fuck_ uuuhhhnn!” Sam came hard, thick ropes shooting all over the cheap bedspread, ass clenching frantically around Dean’s cock.

“I really thought I could show off more before you came,” Dean said with a chuckle, patting Sam on the ass.

“How many digits do you have memorized?” Sam panted, heart hammering. 

“Not that many. Twenty? Twenty-five maybe?” 

“God, that's hot. Keep fucking me until you come again.” It didn’t take Dean long to acquiesce, pounding Sam hard until he filled him deep inside minutes later. 

“Sammy...just...what the fuck,” Dean said breathing heavily, after he flopped onto his back. One arm was draped lazily over his eyes the other was reaching out for his brother.

Sam lay down beside him tentatively, throwing a sheet over himself. “Dean you...you let me- I...we...” What are you supposed to say to your brother who just had his cock up your ass? He stared at Dean waiting for the fallout, waiting for him to snap and tell him all the things he said to himself that night.

“I know kid, I know.” He patted Sam’s shoulder. “You just seemed so...adamant. And I dunno, it...felt good.” He shrugged sheepishly. “Figured I would just go with it.”

Sam started to smile. “So you're not pissed?”

“Pissed? No. Do I think you're a little fucked in the head? Sure.” He ruffled Sam’s damp hair. “But damn...that was...pretty fucking fun.”

He was full on grinning now. “You're such a fucking tease by the way.”

Dean mirrored the grin and rolled on his side to face Sam. “Maybe I need to talk nerdy to you more often, huh?”

“Like I said, tease.” 

“Know what I could do? I could go to CVS and get a pair of reading glasses, bet your dorky ass would like that.” Dean playfully pushed his shoulder. 

“You better cut that out before I attack you for round two.”

“Alright, alright, we’ll talk more in the morning.” Dean chuckled, threw the rumpled, soiled bedspread back over them, and punched his pillow into a comfortable shape. 

Sam rolled onto his stomach, feeling more relieved and happier than he has in a long time, mind finally quiet, ready to drift off.

**Author's Note:**

> Every author needs to do an "only one bed" fic so I was suuuuper happy to use that trope here! 
> 
> Is smart sexy? Is brainy Dean hot? Did you learn anything from my facts? Let me know what you think!


End file.
